"You will address me," suggested the little outlaw, "as 'Sir.' Very
well, Slops. I want you to prepare a meal for us. A _good_ meal. Fresh
meats and vegetables. You have no idea--" He drawled this last to
Hanson. "How one wearies of canned concentrates."
Hanson just glowered. But Biggs looked confused. He said, "I--I'll
have to get produce from the storage bins if you want a big meal. This
galley's small--" He looked about him helplessly.
Hake nodded. "That is granted. But, mind you, attempt no
medieval--ah--toxicological exploits. I remember the chef of the
_Spica_ tried something of the sort. Poor lad! He screamed horribly ...
I shall never forget it."
[Illustration: "MIND YOU," SAID THE PIRATE ICILY, "NO FANCY MEDICI
FLAVORING TO THIS MEAL."]
I bet he wouldn't! The louse. But I hoped, now, that Biggs would
understand I had been right. He couldn't pull any funny business on
Runt and get away with it.
He seemed to understand, all right. He said, goggling, "I'll do the
best I can--sir. It will take a little time, of course."
"We have time and to spare," agreed Hake. "A good meal, that is what we
want. And now, gentlemen--?"
He motioned us toward the turret room. We started to leave the galley.
I was the last to pass through the door. As I did so, I felt a fumbling
at my side. Mr. Biggs was shoving something into my pocket. He
whispered in my ear, "Sparks--give each of our men a piece. Tell them
to chew it!"
* * * * *
For a moment my hopes flamed high. I didn't know what Biggs had up his
sleeve, but I dared dream that he had devised some way of overcoming
the pirate menace. But when I managed to get away, unobserved, a few
minutes later to see what he had thrust in my jacket, my hopes died as
suddenly as they had been born.
The stuff was nothing but pepsin. Plain, ordinary pepsin; a by-product
from the outspread Venusian ranches.
I was half minded to chuck the damn stuff away. I thought maybe worry,
desperation, had made Biggs slip his gravs. Then I thought better of
it. After all, he may have had some reason. And in a spot like this,
any gamble was worth taking....
So, slowly, I started getting the stuff distributed around. I
managed to slip half the package to Doug Enderby, the steward, with
instructions to get it to the black gang. I met Chief Garrity 'tween
decks, and gave him some for his engine room crew. Todd took a piece,
wondering, reluctant, but put it in his mouth when I signalled him to
do so. Me? Sure, I had some, too. After all, it tasted good. And a man
might as well check out with a clean taste in his mouth.
The only man I couldn't slip a piece to at any time was Cap Hanson.
Runt Hake had the old eagle eye on the Skipper. Matter of fact, Hake
had the eagle eye on all of us. He didn't miss a trick, that murderous
little squirt. Just before dinner was served he made my heart miss a
beat when he asked, "What are you chewing on, Sparks? Gum?"
He gave me the fright and the out at the same time. I nodded. "Yeah," I
said. Then, fearful not to ask, "You want a piece?"