"Some one has been playing larks with the grub, sir. I can't go to the
wheel, for I can't--can't--can't--can't--Here, hold up Neb, lad; don't
lurch about like that."
"I'm a-going down, matey, I'm a-going down," growled Dumlow, and I saw
him sink on the deck.
"You scoundrels, you've been at the rum!" cried Mr Brymer, and he drew
his pistol, but only gave a stagger, and caught about in the air to try
and save himself from falling. "Help--Frewen--something--give me
something," he panted, and Mr Frewen came to him, feeling his way with
his arms stretched out just as if he were playing at blindman's buff.
He came on as if from a great distance, till he touched Mr Brymer, and
I heard him whisper the one word--"Treachery."
"I knew it!" cried the mate, fiercely, and cocking his pistol he
staggered for a moment just as I saw Bob Hampton sink down on the deck
holding his head.
Directly after, as Mr Frewen stood swaying to and fro, the mate rushed
to where the cook and the two men stood by the galley-door.
The two sailors shrank away to right and left, while Mr Brymer seized
the cook and dragged him away, forcing him down upon his knees, holding
him by the collar with one hand, and swaying to and fro as he said
thickly--
"You dog, you drugged that dish you sent in to dinner!"
"No, sir--'pon my word, sir--I swear, sir!" shrieked the poor fellow.
"You treacherous hound, you've poisoned us!" stammered out the mate.
"I swear I haven't, Mr Brymer, sir. Don't, sir--that pistol, sir--
pray, sir--indeed, indeed, I haven't!"
Mr Brymer was shaking the pistol about threateningly, as he rocked to
and fro over the cook, who as he knelt clasped his hands in agony, and I
heard him say something very indistinctly, for he was sobbing about his
wife and child.
Then there was a loud bang as the pistol fell, and directly after I saw
Mr Brymer glide down as it were on to the deck, and roll over toward
where Mr Frewen already lay--though I had not seen him fall--with his
arms now folded, and his face upon them as if he were asleep.
And still it didn't seem to trouble me in the least. Even when Mr
Brymer was gesticulating with his pistol, it did not alarm me, for it
was all something interesting going on before me just as if it were part
of a dream which would all dissolve away directly, and then I should
wake up and think of it no more.
I think my eyes must have been closing then, but they opened widely
again, and at one glance I saw my companions perfectly motionless from
where I sat back against the bulwark, and heard Mr Preddle snoring
heavily by my side. For the cook exclaimed passionately--
"I swear, if it was the last word I had to titter, I've done nothing! I
never drugged nobody's food!"
"All right, matey," said the sailor I had seen talking to the steersman;
"it warn't you--it was me."
"You?" cried the cook. "You've poisoned them!"
"Not I, my lad," said the man, laughing; and every word he uttered rang
in my ears as if it was being shouted by some tremendous voice, for my
senses were at that moment abnormally clear. "Not I, my lad. I was up
yonder, when I saw Brymer and the rest of 'em get together to have what
old Frenchy calls a parley, and they hadn't been there long, leaving me
wondering what game was up, and what they were going to do about the
lads down below, when I see the sky-light opened a bit. So of course I
crep' along the deck to hear what they'd got to say."
"And did you hear?"
"Every word, mate. They were going to get the doctor to find the stuff
to send all the lads to sleep, and then they were going to open the
hatch and shove Jarette by himself, and the others some in the
cable-tier and some in the hold."
"Yes, yes!" cried the cook, eagerly, while I listened hard.
"Well then, that warmint yonder said it ought to be put in the soup, and
so they settled it.
"`Two can play at that game,' I says, and I listened till they spoke so
low that I opened the light a bit wider, and it slipped out of my hands
and went down bang. So I nipped back to set alongside o' Tommy here,
and my gentleman comes up to peep, sees me right away, and goes back
again. I thought perhaps they'd give it up then, but I kep' my eyes
open, and bimeby I sees my nipper here come to you with three tins, and
he tells you what to do with them.
"`All right,' I says, `I can see through that dodge,' so I lays low and
waits my chance, empties the tin of soup you'd put aside into a pan, and
then pours the one you were going to use into the one you'd set aside,
and that out of the pan into the tin, but I washed it out first, and put
it ready for you to use."
"You couldn't; I was here all the time," said the cook, angrily.
"Oh, was you? Didn't go round to the back to fetch taters, did you?"
"Of course. I forgot."
"Ah, that's right," continued the man. "But I warn't satisfied then,
for I says to myself, `Them poor beggars down below won't get the dose
now, but I should like t'others to have a taste;' and to make sure as
they did, I takes the tin as you'd got the lumps o' meat in, pours out
all the pieces and fills it up from the tin they'd doctored, and filled
it up again with the juice I'd poured out; now I says to myself,
whichever lot they have'll give 'em what they meant for some one else--
and so it did. My word, they mixed it pretty strong."
"Why, the tins were wet and sticky!" cried the cook.
"Course they was, mate; I had to be in such a hurry for fear of your
coming back."
"And I couldn't make out about that pan."
"Hadn't time to wash it, messmate."
"Then I gave the lads down below the soup the cabin was to have had?"
"You did."
"And them in the cabin the soup and kangaroo they'd physicked?"
"That's so, matey, and their games are over again. You'll jyne us,
won't you?"
"I? Join you?" faltered the cook, looking across at me; "here, what are
you going to do?"
"Let the lads out again. It's their turn now."
And just then the men in the forecastle finished a chorus and began to
cheer.
"I shall wake up from this dream directly," I remember thinking, but I
did not, for all was black, and I was in the deepest sleep that I ever
had in my long life.