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Sail Ho! A Boy at Sea, a novel by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 29 |
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_ CHAPTER TWENTY NINE. We all ran out, but no one was there, and Walters' cabin door was fast. I was quickest, and ran out of the saloon, but there was no one nearer than the forecastle-hatch in one direction, and on the other as I ran up the ladder there was the man at the wheel, one of the men we had secured, while the other was seated on the bulwark talking to him and smoking. "What could it have been?" I thought, for a shiver of dread had run through me, a dread that some one had been listening, and overheard the doctor's words. But the next moment I laughed, and went back to those who were examining the various cabins. "All right," I said, pointing upwards, "that was it; I did not properly fasten up that sky-light, and it fell down." It was exactly as I said, for there was the window I had stuck open shut closely down. "I was afraid that some one had been listening to what I had planned," said Mr Frewen. "So was I, sir," I said, "but we're all right. The men were both at the wheel." The next minute we were all in consultation again. I say we, for I was quite made one of them, young as I was. Then the matter was thoroughly discussed, for Mr Frewen's plan proved to be not so easy on consideration as we had at first supposed. "You see, gentlemen," said Mr Brymer, "it's one thing to set a trap, and another to get your rats to walk into it. How were you thinking of giving it to them?" "I thought dissolved in water," replied Mr Frewen. "Two objections to that," said Mr Denning; "the stuff would make it taste, and in all probability some of the men would not take it." "I'll answer for it that Jarette would not touch water," cried Mr Brymer, "so that plan will not do. You can't give it to him with biscuits. Yes, what's the matter?" he cried, for there was a loud rapping at the entrance to the saloon. "Beg pardon, sir," said Bob Hampton's voice, "here's a deppytation from the chaps in the forksle." "What?" cried Mr Brymer, in alarm, "are they out?" "No, sir, not they. One of 'em's got up into the hatchway as spokesman, and he's been giving us a bit of his mind." "What does he say?" "Says as he wants to know whether you mean to starve 'em out; as they've on'y had some water and biscuit for twenty-four hours, and that if you don't send 'em some grub, they'll set fire to the ship, for they'd sooner be roasted than starved." "All right, Hampton; go back and tell them that we will see what can be done, but that if they fire another shot they shall not have a biscuit." "Right, sir," growled Hampton, and he turned upon his heel and went back, while Mr Brymer exclaimed in an excited whisper-- "There, doctor, could anything be better?" "No; they are playing into our hands; but there is the difficulty still. How can we give it to them? It must be something of which all will partake. Why not have some coffee made for them?" "Half of them wouldn't touch it," said Captain Berriman. "I'd suggest grog, but they have spirits no doubt, and they want food." There was a dead silence, and then feeling nervous, and as if I was certain to be snubbed, I ventured to speak. "Wouldn't a tin of the soup do?" I said. Mr Brymer brought his hand down on my shoulder. "The very thing!" he cried eagerly. "You have some tins of soup amongst the Australian meat, captain?" "Yes, plenty." "That will do then, only it must be done with a certain amount of cunning, or they may have suspicions. Depend upon it, if I am seen in it they will not take the stuff." "Then what is to be done?" said Mr Frewen. "I propose," replied Mr Brymer, "that I get a couple of tins out of the store and open them. Then Dale here shall take them to the cook; the excuse for their being opened is to be that so many tins have gone bad." "Which is true enough," said the captain, feebly. "Exactly," continued Mr Brymer; "and these were opened to make sure that they were all right." "Well?" "You can give me the stuff--laudanum, or whatever it is--to mix with the contents of one tin, which Dale can take to the cook, and tell him to warm up and reduce with hot water, while he reserves the other for our table." "But why give him two?" said the doctor. "Because I want to avert suspicion in every way. The cook has been mixed up with the men, and he shut himself up as you know in dread of our punishing him, perhaps shooting him down. He may suspect something, and manage to warn the men. If two tins are sent, one for the men and one for our own table, everything will look simple and ordinary." "And suppose he gives us the drugged one by mistake?" "We can guard against that by sending a large one and a small one. No-- by sending two different kinds." "There is only one kind," said the captain. "I don't like the plan," said the doctor. "It may end in a mistake, and we don't want to be hoist with our own petard." "Hang it, no!" cried Mr Brymer. "All right then, we will not eat the soup." "But why shouldn't I take my drug--it will only be a small portion of a white powder--and drop it into the soup when it is ready?" "Because there would certainly be some hitch in the proceedings to hinder you getting it in. Besides, we don't want the cook to be in the secret." "Very well then," said the doctor, "I suppose that must be the plan. I'll go and get the drug ready at once, and bring it here. But one minute; how many men are there in the forecastle?--because I must reckon accordingly." "Say sixteen. You must give them a pretty good dose." "Yes; but not strong enough to be risky," said Mr Frewen; and he signed to me to go with him to his cabin, where he opened his medicine-chest, and after a little thought, carefully weighed out, from a stoppered bottle, an absurdly small portion of a whitish powder and placed it in a square of white paper. "There," he said, "take that to Mr Brymer, and tell him to give it a good stir round, or we shall be killing some of the scoundrels, and letting others off scot free." "Yes," I said, looking with no little interest at the powder which he had turned out of the tiny scales he had used. "The cook is sure to stir it well too. But, Mr Frewen, will that little pinch or two of stuff be enough?" "Plenty," he said. "It is as far as I dare go, for it is most potent." "And it will send them off to sleep?" "Into a sleep so deep that it would be impossible to awaken them for some hours." "Ugh!" I ejaculated, as I took the little packet and thrust it into my pocket. "I hope, if ever you give me any physic, you'll be careful not to give me any out of the wrong bottle." "I'll take care," he said. "Mind you warn Mr Brymer to be very careful too." I nodded and went out of the cabin, took a turn along the deck to see that the men were keeping watch by the forecastle-hatch, and then turned in at the galley to say a word or two to the cook, asking him what we were to have for our dinner. I went straight back to where Mr Brymer was down in the captain's store-room with a lantern, by whose light I could see before me two of the large well-known drum-shaped tins of portable soup. "Got it?" he said in a whisper. I handed him the packet without a word. "Look here," he said. "There are two kinds, with blue label and yellow label. You see I shall put the stuff in the yellow labelled tin." "Yes, I see," I replied; and he opened the packet, shook out the contents, so that it lay spread on the top of the brown-looking gluey meat essence, and then stirred it well round with a knife, till it could not help being well mixed. "There, we must chance that," he whispered, "but it seems a very small dose." "Mr Frewen said it was wonderfully strong," I said. "Well, we must hope so. Take the tins. You will not make any mistake?" "Oh no, I'll take care," I said. "The yellow one for the men, the blue for us; but you don't catch me touching it." "Nor me, Dale," he said, with a nod. "And look here, I shan't open this, but here's a big tin of kangaroo-tail; give him that too for warming up for our dinner." I went away pretty well loaded, and walked to the galley. "Here," I said, trying to speak merrily, but it was all forced, for I felt exceedingly nervous. "I was asking you just now what was for dinner. Here you are--kangaroo-tail for our dinner, and that soup in the blue tin; and you're to put plenty of water to this other one, and make a half-bucket-full of soup for the men in the forecastle. How soon will it be ready?" "Five minutes. I've plenty of boiling water. Who opened them?" "We did," I replied. "They are all right, but some of the tins are going bad." "Yes; I've had some I was glad to pitch overboard, sir, and if I had my way I'd make the folks as sells such rubbish for poor sailors eat it themselves." "And serve 'em right. You understand you're to keep this one for us, and get ready the yellow tin?" "All right, Mr Dale." "Hulloa, cookie, what's for dinner?" said the man who had just been relieved from taking his trick at the wheel. "Oh!--didn't know you were here, sir." "Chump end of a hurdy-gurdy and organ sauce, messmate," said the cook, meaning to be very facetious, while I walked out of the galley, passing the man who had been sitting aft talking to the steersman. I reported the progress of what I had done to Mr Brymer, and then waited for further orders. "I think I'll stand out of this business altogether now, Dale," he said. "Wait a few minutes and then take one of the men, say Dumlow, and serve out the stuff to them, passing down a fresh supply of biscuits as well. What's the matter?" I flushed up. "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." _ |
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