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'What is it?'

'I kept these to show you, sir.' Grimes produced a pan containing a bloody and stinking mess. 'The first two eggs was bad, sir. I didn't want you to think--'

'Very well.' Grimes was afraid in case he should be accused of stealing them. 'Take the damned things away.'

Now was it not exactly like Mrs Mason to buy eggs for him of which half were bad? Hornblower ate his unpleasant eggs--even these two, although not exactly bad, were flavoured--while reconciling himself with the prospect of making up for it all with the jam. He spread a biscuit with the precious butter, and here was the jam. Blackcurrant! Of all the misguided purchases! Grimes, squeezing back into the chart-room, positively jumped as Hornblower let out the oath that had been seeking an outlet for several minutes.

'Sir?'

'I'm not speaking to you, damn you,' said Hornblower, his restraint at an end.

Hornblower was fond of jam, but of all the possible varieties he liked blackcurrant least. It was a poor last best. Well, it would have to do; he bit at the iron-hard biscuit.