The pressing of the dingus, it is true, did away with the spray. It substituted what to the skilful engineers who designed it was presumably "Half Power." A thin but violent stream of liquid bug-powder ascended past Warren's shoulder as he tried to look at the nozzle and somewhat frantically twisted buttons. All he succeeded in doing was turning on the electric light.
"Give me the swine," said Morgan. "I'll fix it. Do something, can't you? It's raining bug-powder; the place is becoming impregnated with bug-powder! Don't turn it on yourself, you blithering idiot. Turn it… O my God, no! Not in the captain's berth. Take it out of the captain's berth… No, you can't shut it off with a pillow. Not under the bedclothes, dummy! You're—"
"Well, it's better than having it soak up the room, isn't it?" inquired Warren's hoarse voice, out of a luminous mist of bug-powder. "All right. Don't get apoplexy. I'll shut it off. I'll—" He avoided Morgan's arm, a fiendish expression on his face, and rushed to the middle of the cabin. "No, you don't. I turned this thing on and, so help me, I'll turn it off!" He gestured with the Mermaid, which was hissing like an enthusiastic cobra. "And this is the lousy thing my uncle is asked to endorse, is it? It's a cheat! It's no damn good! I'll find Woodcock and tell him so! I've turned every lousy knob… "
"Don't stand there orating!" shouted Morgan, whom the clammy mist had begun to envelop. "Do something. Fire it out the port-hole… "
"I know what I'll do!" said Warren, with fiendish inspiration. "I know what it is. I'll try " Full Power." That's probably the only thing that'll shut the swine off. That's it! If Woodcock had told the truth about it—"
Woodcock had told the truth about it, and could have exhibited a pardonable pride in its response. From the nozzle a fine stream of liquid insect exterminator shot with the force and violence of a fire-hose. Nor could Mr. Woodcock have in the least complained of its accuracy. In fact, it sizzled across the cabin full and true into the face of Commander Sir Hector Whistler just as he opened the door.
Morgan shut his eyes. In that moment of blasting and appalled silence he did not wish to look upon Captain Whistler's countenance. He would sooner have tried to outstare Medusa. Moreover, he wished he could summon his muscles to dive out of the room and run. But he could hear the Mermaid still hissing on the door-post beside the captain's head; and he risked one eye to look, not at Whistler, but at Warren.
Warren found his voice.
"I couldn't help it, Skipper!" he yelled. "I swear by all that's holy I couldn't help it. I tried everything. I pressed every button, but it wouldn't stop. Look! See, I'll show you! Look…!"
There was a sharp click. Instantly the stream gurgled, fell, and died away from the Mermaid's nozzle. It stopped. The Mermaid was as innocuous as she had been before.