"I--I don't quite like doing it, Mr Brymer," I said.
He looked at me angrily, but his face softened directly.
"No," he said, "it is not a pleasant task. It seems treacherous and
cruel, but I cannot show myself in the matter. They might turn
suspicious. Some one in authority must go, and it is a work of sheer
necessity. You will have to go, Dale."
"Yes, sir, I'll go," I said firmly. "I don't like it, but I know it is
right."
"Go on then, my lad, and carry it through for all our sakes. Be careful
that the man with you does not touch it."
I nodded, and the time being near, I thrust my hands into my pockets,
and began to whistle as I walked forward, passed the galley, and I was
about to speak to Dumlow, who was on the watch, when a voice came out of
the hatchway sounding smothered but unmistakable as Jarette's.
"Now then, you sirs. Are there to be any rations served out, or are we
to set fire to the ship?"
"Can't you wait a few minutes?" I said, trying to speak coolly as I saw
the two men who had been by the wheel smoking their pipes near the
galley and looking on.
"Minutes, you whipper-snapper!" he snarled; "we've been waiting hours."
"If you're not civil I'll tell the cook to keep the soup back for an
hour."
"Soup? What soup?" he cried.
"Soup the cook's getting ready; Dumlow, go and get the biscuit-bag."
Jarette uttered a grunt, and there was a buzz of voices from below whose
tones plainly enough told of eager expectation, for they had been pretty
well starved since they had been shut down in the cabin.
Dumlow fetched the bag of biscuits, and with the men watching me I
prepared to go forward.
"Better let me do it, sir," growled Bob Hampton; "they may shoot."
"No, I don't think they will," I said quietly, as I looked aft to see
that my friends were, like the men hard by, watching me, and Barney
Blane right aft at the wheel. "Look here, below there," I said, trying
to keep my voice steady, for I felt horribly nervous, and could not help
thinking that if anything went wrong the mutineers would visit what had
been done on me.
"Look here, you, I'm going to serve out biscuits and soup. I shall hand
the tins down through the hole in the hatch. Fair play. No pistols
now."
"Let's have the soup, and don't chatter, boy," said Jarette, sharply,
and just then the cook came out smiling with a bucket nearly full of
steaming, fragrant-smelling soup, and the man who had been by the wheel
came behind him carrying a dozen tin mugs whose handles were strung on a
piece of rope.
"Here we are!" I said, strung up now to get the miserable business over
as quickly as I could, and just then the cook set the bucket down on the
deck, and began to stir it with a big iron ladle.
"Lot o' preserved vegetables and herbs and all in it, sir," he
exclaimed. "If I don't stir they'll go to the bottom."
"Oh, keep stirring!" I said huskily, as I took a tin, made Dumlow lay
some biscuits on the wooden boarding over the hatch, and I held the tin
ready while the cook filled it from the ladle.
The next minute, with my hand trembling, I handed the first tin and a
biscuit down, for both to be snatched from me. Then I shivered and felt
that all was over, for a familiar voice said--
"Taste that, one of you, and see if it's all right."
"Oh, that's all right! Mister Jarette. Plenty o' salt, pepper, and
dried herbs in it," said the cook.
Then there was a peculiar noise below, slightly suggestive of pigs, and
a voice said--
"Jolly hot, but--suss!--good--capital!"
"Here, look sharp, skipper, make haste! Here, I'm first," and a dozen
other expressions greeted my ear, as, gaining courage, I had a second
one filled and passed it down, leaving it to Dumlow now to hand down the
biscuits, while as every portion was served there were grunts of
satisfaction, and the cook smiled and looked as proud as could be.
"Here you, cookie, _bon chef_," cried Jarette; "I'll promote you as soon
as I come to my rights. Ladle away."
The cook did ladle away, and I handed the tins, moved by a kind of
frenzy, so eager was I to get the horrible task over, while my heart
beat furiously. I shivered as I heard the men below laughing and
talking, as they praised the cook's performance, little imagining the
hand I had had in the preparation. But I thought of how horrible it
would be if the drug proved too strong for some of the men, or if others
got more than their share through its settling down, and in spite of the
vigorous use the cook made of his ladle as we neared the bottom, I felt
worse and worse, feeling as I did at last, that we were sending down to
some of the men that which might prove to be their death.
"That's all!" shouted the cook at last, giving the upturned tin bucket a
loud banging with his ladle, and a loud murmur of disappointment came up
through the opening.
"Be good boys, then, and I'll make you another lot to-morrow. Why, Mr
Dale, sir," he said, turning to me, "it has made you hot; your face is
all over great drops."
"Is it?" I said, rather faintly; "I suppose it is very hot."
But all the same I felt cold and ready to shiver, while to escape notice
I hurried aft and entered the saloon where the gentlemen were waiting,
Mr Brymer following me in.
"Well!" he said eagerly.
"They've taken it to the last drop," I panted, and then to the
doctor--"Oh, Mr Frewen, I feel as if I had been committing a dozen
murders. I wish I had not said a word about the soup."