The steward was passing from the galley to the cabin table with a plate
of hash. A sudden lurch made him lose his balance. His arms went into
the air and the hash left the plate and went in a body against the
side of the ship where a coil of rope hung; and it remained fast, the
coil forming an oval frame for it. We pitied the steward but did not
weep for the hash. Some of us thought we could understand the action
of a company of boys at a boarding school, who were asked in Lent what
luxury they would each propose to forego during the season of fasting
and humiliation as a religious offering. Slips of paper were given
to them and in a little while were collected. Every one of the forty
papers bore the word, Hash. Some of our company were so lost to a sense
of propriety as to exult at the steward’s mishap.