While in the Dolphin, with Captain Turner, I tried my hand at cooking more than once, when the cook had been so badly flogged as to be unable to perform his duties.

But I gained no laurels in that department.

Indeed, dissatisfaction was expressed in the forecastle and the cabin at the bungling and unartistic style in which I prepared the food on those occasions.

In the Young Pilot I succeeded but little better; and the captain, who was something of an epicure in his way, whenever a good cup of coffee was required for breakfast, or a palatable dish for dinner, released me from my vocation for the time, and installed himself in the camboose.

And it would have been amusing to a looker-on, to see the big, burly Scotchman steaming over the fire and smoke, rattling the pans and kettles, and compounding various materials, while I sat quietly at the helm, watching his operations, and thanking my stars that I had no genius for cooking.
The greatest cause I had for disquiet on this passage was the want of society.