“What can you expect?” demanded the mate.  “They’ve all got their Sunday clothes on too, pretty dears.”

“Hi, you Bill!” cried the skipper.  “What are you doing there?”

“Lending cook a hand with the saucepans, sir,” said Bill, an oakum-bearded man of sixty.

“There ain’t no call for ’im to come ’ere at all, sir,” shouted another seaman, putting his head out of the galley.  “Me an’ cook’s lifting ’em beautiful.”

“Come out, both of you, or I’ll start you with a rope!” roared the irritated commander.

“What’s the matter?” inquired Mrs. Blossom.  “They’re not doing any harm.”

“I can’t have ’em there,” said the skipper gruffly.  “They’ve got other things to do.”

“I must have some assistance with that boiler and the saucepans,” said Mrs. Blossom decidedly, “so don’t you interfere with what don’t concern you, Jimmy.”

“That’s mutiny,” whispered the horrified mate.  “Sheer, rank mutiny.”

“She don’t know no better,” whispered the other back.  “Cook, you mustn’t talk like that to the cap’n—­what me and the mate tell you you must do.  You don’t understand yet, but it’ll come easier by-and-bye.”

“Will it,” demanded Mrs. Blossom loudly; “Will it?  I don’t think it will.  How dare you talk to me like that, Jim Harris?  You ought to be ashamed of yourself!”

“My name’s Cap’n Harris,” said the skipper stiffly.

“Well, captain Harris,” said Mrs. Blossom scornfully; “and what’ll happen if I don’t do as you and that other shamefaced-looking man tell me?”

“We hope it won’t come to that,” said Harris, with quiet dignity, as he paused at the companion.  “But the mate’s in charge just now, and I warn you he’s a very severe man.  Don’t stand no nonsense, George.”

With these brave words the skipper disappeared below, and the mate, after one glance at the dauntless and imposing attitude of Mrs. Blossom, walked to the side and became engrossed in a passing steamer.  A hum of wondering admiration arose from the crew, and the cook, thoroughly satisfied with her victory, returned to the scene of her labours.

For the next twenty-four hours Mrs. Blossom reigned supreme, and performed the cooking for the vessel, assisted by five ministering seamen.  The weather was fine, and the wind light, and the two officers were at their wits’ end to find jobs for the men.

“Why don’t you put your foot down,” grumbled the mate, as a burst of happy laughter came from the direction of the galley.  “The idea of men laughing like that aboard ship; they’re carrying on just as though we wasn’t here.”

“Will you stand by me?” demanded the skipper, pale but determined.

“Of course I will,” said the other indignantly.

“Now, my lads,” said Harris, stepping forward, “I can’t have you chaps hanging round the galley all day; you’re getting in cook’s way and hindering her.  Just get your knives out; I’ll have the masts scraped.”