good luck and bad luck and pot-luck as they come!" So Fred assured me,
and we resolved to abide by the captain's rule.

"We may have to weigh out our food with a bullet, like Admiral Bligh,
next week," said Fred.

"So we may," said I. And the thought must have given an extra relish
to the beefsteak and hard-boiled eggs, for I never tasted anything so
good.

Whether the smell of the pie went aft, or whether something else made
the barge-master turn round and come forward, I do not know; but when
we were encumbered with open clasp-knives, and full mouths, we saw him
bearing down upon us, and in a hasty movement of retreat I lost my
balance, and went backward with a crash upon a tub of potatoes.

The noise this made was not the worst part of the business. I was
tightly wedged amongst the odds and ends, and the money-bag being
sharply crushed against the match-box, which was by this time well
warmed, the matches exploded in a body, and whilst I was putting as
heroic a face as I could on the pain I was enduring in my right
funny-bone, Fred cried, "Your jacket's smoking. You're on fire!"

Whether Mr. Rowe, the barge-master, had learnt presence of mind out of
a book, I do not know; but before Fred and I could even think of what
to do in the emergency, my jacket was off, the matches were
overboard, and Mr. Rowe was squeezing the smouldering fire out of my
pocket, rather more deliberately than most men brush their hats. Then,
after civilly holding the jacket for me to put it on again, he took
off his hat, took his handkerchief out of it, and wiped his head, and