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The three of them devise a game that involves kicking the ball through one doorway or the other, and we’re lucky it never lands in the slop bucket or the soup.

Richard is the only one I can ask, the only one who should be asked to bring a slop bucket to another servant.

Better than being chained up by Captain Smith again with no slop bucket nearby.

I pick up a slop bucket—my ticket to the ship’s deck.

Richard is carrying the oatmeal pot for our mess, and James has a slop bucket he has just emptied.