“No gottee allee mo’.”
“Don’t strike any more matches,” went on Bob sternly. “You’re going with us to Para, and you’re going to do the cooking. Take him in hand, Speake,” he added to Speake, who had dropped down behind Gaines, “and show him how we do that part of our work on the Grampus. Keep an eye on him, and see that he doesn’t blow up the boat.”
“Never did like a Chinaman, nohow,” grumbled Speake. “If he gits too blame’ troublesome, I’ll break his scrawny neck. Come on here, yaller mug!”
Speake made off forward, toward the torpedo room, and Ah Sin meekly followed. Just then a thump on the deck, and a loud hail, announced that Dick had arrived with the gasoline.
“Rig the hose, Gaines,” called Bob. “Clackett, get the pump on deck. We’ve got to get the fuel into the tank in short order and then slant away for the Amazon and Para.”
While Gaines and Clackett busied themselves, Bob and Glennie went up to the periscope room. Carl was just climbing the ladder to help Dick. Glennie, without further talk, picked up his suit case and went on to the room that had been set apart for his use.
“Dot Chinaman vill ged us all indo some hot vater,” grunted. Carl.
“I guess not,” returned Bob. “Speake is looking after him.”
Clackett came with the pump and passed it to Dick, who was in the boat with the barrel of gasoline. The pump was rigged, the end of the hose clamped on, and Clackett and Dick got busy pouring the fuel through the hose and into the big tank below.
While they worked, Clackett explained to Dick that they were to make a quick departure for the Amazon. Dick was disappointed, for he had hoped for a night’s shore leave in Port of Spain, where he had some friends. When he learned that business of Glennie’s had all to do with their short stay in port, Dick was inclined to be resentful.